


Sold My Soul to a Three Piece

by Lady_Impala



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Child Abuse, Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9108178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Impala/pseuds/Lady_Impala
Summary: Credence returns late from his first meeting with the man he believes to be Mr. Graves. Ma is not happy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is a one-off of the consequences of Credence breaking Ma's rules, and is the lynch pin that sets him on his path with Mr. Graves. May thanks and curses to my own Mr. Graves for getting me hooked on this ridiculously amazing business. Comments appreciated!

Fading winter sunlight cast long rays through the tall buildings of lower Manhattan. It cut strange shadows across the angular face of the young man walking down the cold, wind swept sidewalks with his head ducked low, shoulders hunched as if to hide from prying eyes. Credence knew, even before he ascended the few steps to the church, that he was in more trouble than usual. The air felt different, like everything was holding its breath to see what broke first.

Odds were long it would be anything other than him.

Slim, shivering fingers lighted on the brass handle of the heavy oak door, but before he could push it open, the door was yanked away from him. Modesty stood there, eyes wide, feet bare despite the cold. She blinked up at her older brother with that eerie way of hers that seemed to scream in his head, like she knew. What she knew, he couldn't place. But he still found it incredibly unsettling at times. "Ma is waiting," she said, moving out of the way and opening the door the rest of the way. 

Swallowing hard, Credence stepped over the threshold into the crowded dark. He could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on him, of the other children his Ma had taken in under her tutelage. They knew something he did not, and it made his skin crawl. The walk up the stairs felt like the walk of a dead man. Credence paused halfway up and glanced back down at the children who had studiously turned back to whatever they were doing prior to his arrival. His heart was heavy as he turned and finished the climb to the fate that awaited him.

At the top of the rickety stairs was a railing that ran the length of an open room, off of which there were two doors. One led to the room he shared with Modesty, the other to the room Ma shared with Chastity. In between them was a sort of alcove, used mainly as a storage space. A grimy window let in grey sunlight, silhouetting Ma as she stood in front of it, hands folded behind her back. Her back was turned to him, with Chastity standing at her side. Modesty came up behind Credence, silent as a shadow, unnoticed until she touched her brother's elbow. He jumped, cursing the strangled yelp that broke the silence.

"Where have you been, Credence?" Ma's voice was dangerously soft. A low purr that curled around his ears and hissed like a poisonous snake. He opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off before he could even begin. "Do not lie to me, Credence. You will not like the consequences."

Heart hammering against the inside of his ribs, Credence looked down at his scuffed shoes and tried to find the words. He'd had a plan rehearsed, a plausible excuse that would perhaps get him off with a minor punishment. The instant he had agreed to speak privately with the man in the heavy black coat with the beguiling eyes and velvet voice, there had been no doubt in his mind he was going to suffer. But it had seemed to worth it at the time, so irrefusable. "I...there was...there was a man. He wanted-"

"Men like that only want one thing, Credence," Ma snapped, turning her head to glare over her shoulder. "You know better than to run off without telling me. Without my permission."

"But Ma, it's not-" he tried to insist, taking half a step forward. 

"Do not presume to argue with me!" She hissed, now turning to face Credence fully. He retreated the step he took, plus another, backing himself into the railing. "What lies did that man feed you, Credence? Did he want information about me? About your sisters?" Her voice dropped even further as she crowded into his space. Even though he stood several inches taller than her, she overwhelmed him, curling protectively around himself.

"N-nothing, Ma," Credence stammered, unable to meet her eyes. "He didn't want a-anything from the girls." His eyes darted up at Ma's face, inches from his own. 

Realization dawned on her, disgust spreading across her pinched features as she recoiled from Credence. "I should have known." Modesty and Chastity traded confused glances, having only heard pieces of the conversation. "Go downstairs, girls. Gather the others below. Where they can see." Without hesitation, the two hurried to do Ma's bidding as Credence felt his gut twist. "I knew there was something about you, Credence. I could smell the foulness on you."

"Please, Ma, it's not like that," he protested, one hand reaching for her. She swatted him away harshly.

"I told you not to lie to me, Credence! What did he say to you? What did he want from you?" She advanced on him again, fury overriding her disgust.

"He only...he just..." Credence fumbled with his words, unsure of how to explain himself. It wasn't what Ma thought, not at all. And yet he couldn't find the words, and somewhere deep in his heart, couldn't in good conscience deny her, either. Mr. Graves hadn't been the first man to approach Credence, but he had been the first to draw him in so completely. There had been an unmistakable something that Credence craved about him. Maybe it was just his sweet promises; maybe it was something more.

"Just stop. I don't want to hear any more of your sniveling lies." Ma held her hand out, palm up as she waited expectantly. Credence reacted instinctively, fingers moving with practiced ease over the cold silver of his belt buckle. The leather slid free with a whisper, and he bowed his head as he offered it to her, holding out his other hand. But Ma shook her head. "No. Take off your shirt."

Credence flinched as if he'd been struck, hand dropping to his side as he looked at her with wide eyes. "Ma, please..." He begged, suddenly feeling the weight of the eyes of the other children below.

"Please what? Please show you mercy? I am showing you mercy. By all rights, I should throw you out onto the street to fend for yourself amongst the filth. With the other inverts like you." Again Credence flinched with each strike of her words, razor sharp and precise across his heart. "I am showing you far more mercy than you deserve. I want to help you Credence. This is where we begin." She wrapped her slim fingers around the leather and took it almost reverently from Credence's trembling fingers. "Take. Off. Your. Shirt."

Fumbling fingers stumbled over the buttons of his vest and shirt, carefully peeling away all three layers at once. He was dangerously thin beneath his clothes, a scattering of healing bruises dotting the sharp line of his ribs. Ma looked him over with a detached stare, sighing heavily. "Such a broken boy," she said sadly before spinning her finger. Credence turned and gripped the raw wood railing tightly. Modesty and Chastity had gathered the other children on the bare wooden floor. They all had their eyes turned up, watching the spectacle above them.

"Please, Ma," Credence said again, voice unsteady as he turned over his shoulder to look at her with tears in his eyes. "Don't...don't tell them." Her hatred he could bear; what difference would it prove, truly? But theirs? No, that would break him.

Something moved in the depths of Ma's eyes, a farcical version of compassion. "No, Credence. This will be our secret. Now turn around, and count."

With a shaky nod, Credence did as he was bid, closing his eyes and letting his head hang limp. Ma began to speak, intoning something about family, and trust, and betrayal. But Credence shut it all out, turning inward instead. Replaying his conversation with Mr. Graves, the promises he'd made of freedom, a life without pain, without this waking nightmare...

The first lash was unexpected. Leather met with thin skin with a loud crack, echoed by a pained cry from Credence. When no number was forthcoming, Ma snarled softly and snapped, "I said count," as she lashed out again. 

"One, two!" He gasped, fingers tightening on the railing for support. She was skilled at her work with the belt, both the dull pain of the flat of the belt with the sharp pain of the snap on the return. Already he could feel bruises beginning to form over the ones left before. Then sometimes, she would twist her wrist just before the leather met flesh, leaving behind a red welt, or even breaking the skin. Hot blood trickled down his side, mingling with cold sweat. With each lash, he would count dutifully even as his voice grew weaker.

Once, he opened his eyes to look below. The others watched in silence; some fascinated, others too terrified to speak or look away. Credence couldn’t handle the looks on their faces, so turned away with a strangled, “Ten…”

There was a pause, as if Ma was deciding what to do next. “Credence,” she purred dangerously, letting the tips of her fingers drift lightly over his burning, bleeding skin. Goosebumps rippled in response, muscles trembling as he tried to keep himself under control. “How many of us live here? Including you and I.” Now her voice was loud enough to carry downstairs to their audience.

The question startled him. Credence started to straighten, stopping when Ma dug a nail into one of his new lashes. He hissed and settled back where he was, bent at the waist and leaning heavily on the railing. “T-twenty three,” he said somewhat hesitantly, voice soft.

“Louder, please. I don’t think everyone could hear you.” One brow arched high, and she pressed her nail in deeper.

Credence’s words were stolen by a ragged, pained cry, stumbling before he managed a louder answer. “Twenty three, Ma, twenty three.”

“Very good. So. You will suffer twenty three lashes, one for each of us that your stupidity put in danger.” There was a collective gasp from those gathered below, but Ma silenced it with a stare. “This is what happens when you do not follow the rules. When you put your family at risk.” She leaned in close to Credence, pressing their cheeks together. He flinched away from her touch, unable to stifle a whimper. “When you pervert and twist God’s perfect creation.” 

Straightening again, she took a step back, snapping the belt once. “Count.”

Credence’s plea was cut short by another, and another, and another vicious lash. She alternated between the flat and the edge. He never missed a number, though his voice was a whisper by the time he reached twenty one. There was a brief pause as Ma adjusted something, and the last two lashes came down in quick, violent succession.

Instead of hitting his exposed flesh with the leather, she cracked the heavy silver buckle across his back. 

Abused skin split wide and he screamed in betrayed anguish and agony, knees finally buckling and bringing him to the floor. Forehead pressed hard into the wood railing, Credence was oblivious to the splinters that stuck into his skin. Ugly sobs wracked his thin shoulders as bright red blood dripped into the floor. Above him, Ma waved at the girls downstairs, who ushered the shocked children to their own beds on the ground floor.

Credence could hear her soft footfalls on the wooden floor behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. After a few minutes, he felt her kneel behind him, placing a cold, damp cloth against his back as she started to hum softly in his ear. “I’m doing this for you, Credence,” she whispered, her fingers carding through his hair. He trembled beneath her touch, fighting back a wave of nausea and black rage that threatened to overtake him. Too weak to pull away, he merely turned his face to look at her with red-rimmed eyes. “I know you don’t see it now, but I’m trying to help you.”

Modesty and Charity reached the top of the stairs, and Ma left Credence in their care. He was patched up as best they could manage before they left him alone on his bed, staring blankly at the wall. Sleep did not come to him, no matter how he tried. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Ma’s disgust, or the irresistible pull of Mr. Graves.

The following morning, Credence rose early and dressed as best he could. Each movement pulled on his injuries, and he hissed in constant pain. No one dared look at him. Finally, he managed to convince Ma to let him run an errand, swearing he would be back. He jammed his hat onto his head, deciding against his coat despite the bitingly cold wind outside. That was preferable to the uncomfortable weight of his wool coat against his fresh injuries.

Across town, clutching his ever-present pamphlets in his hand Credence ducked into a dark alley. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, thinking he was alone.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were coming.” That voice. Oh, that voice. Warm, and rough, and…seductive. Intoxicating. Credence turned instinctively toward the source, an older man dressed in a high quality black wool coat with pristine white lining, the glitter of small scorpions dotting the collar of his crisp linen shirt.

Credence approached Mr. Graves cautiously, the papers shaking in his hands. Once he was close enough, Mr. Graves wrapped warm, rough hands around his much more delicate ones. “You came back to me,” he whispered, at once too close.

Managing a small nod, Credence steeled his nerves and looked up at him. Fresh, fiery agony raced down his spine, flickering like electricity with each step, but all of that was swallowed up by the intensity and intimacy of the older man’s gaze.

“Tell me what to do.”


End file.
